


best-laid plans

by madfatty



Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:06:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madfatty/pseuds/madfatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series One, Episode Six - It's a Wonderful Rae - Part 2. It's the morning after the rave, and things haven't quite gone according to plan for Finn Nelson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	best-laid plans

Finn freaks out all the way back, doesn’t know why Chloe’s not freaking out even just a little bit. He’d looked everywhere, stayed longer than he wanted to, trying to find her. He’d tracked that arsehole Kendo for a bit, worried she might have gone off with him, but Little Al reckoned Kendo left ages ago with a bunch of people and Rae definitely wasn’t with them. His guts still churned with worry at where she might be. He was supposed to be looking out for her. She was supposed to be with him. He’d thought tonight she’d, that they’d… he thinks too much. It never gets him anywhere near where he wants to be and he hates it.

He swings between being pissed at Rae and Archie and being pissed at himself. This is just so fucking typical of her; she does what she wants to do, when she wants to do it, never mind what anybody else wants. She’s so bloody selfish. Why should he care where she is? He’s sure that wherever she is and whoever she’s with; she’s not given him one single thought. Yeah, well, _fuck her_ , he screams internally. Rae’s a big girl; she knows how to handle herself. Here he is, worrying like some soft sod whether she’s okay and she’s off somewhere, most likely with Archie, having a great time; snogging, fucking – _don’t_ – laughing at him. But as much as he hates the idea, at least she’d be safe. Where the fuck is she?

Even if he wasn’t hungover from all the booze and no sleep, he’d still feel queasy and unsteady on his feet, like he’s spent all night on the Nemesis at Alton Towers. He’s felt that way pretty much for the last couple of weeks. It’s a constant swirl in his head and his gut. He and Rae aren’t together _technically, officially, actually…fuck it, at all;_ she’s free to like whoever she wants. The three of them are mates, besides, it’s not like he’s said anything to either of them, 

_– didn’t think he needed to; he’s made it so bloody obvious, yeah? No – that’s not fair and it’s good isn’t it? If it’s not obvious? It’ll make it easier if Rae and Arch do end up together that no-one has a clue that Finn really… likes her -_

that he wants her to be with him. It’s not her fault that she saw Archie first; liked Archie first; still likes Archie… It’s not Archie’s fault either, even if Finn can’t help thinking that Archie isn’t being completely honest with any of them. See, Finn’s thought Archie was into guys for a little while now, just stuff he’s noticed; no big deal. It doesn’t change anything. He’s still family. He gets it though, if Archie’s confused about what, who he likes, being with Rae could make it easier to decide. Who wouldn’t want to be with Rae if she wanted to be with them? Archie’s a great guy, Finn knows that better than anyone, so he gets it, he really does. It’s not really anyone’s fault but his own that he’s left feeling like this, acting like a complete knobhead to her like he did when they first met.

He can’t even remember why he’d behaved like that; so stubborn and shut-off. He wishes he hadn’t given her so many reasons to not want to be his friend, because he feels so differently about her now and he can’t help wanting everything else to be different to. But it’s too late, because even if Archie doesn’t want Rae, it’s pretty obvious that Archie’s the one Rae wants. Not Finn.

The trip home is nothing like the trip there. There is no excitement, no anticipation, only anxiety and dread. He drives faster than he should, eager to find Rae, eager for Chloe not to be the one pressed so intimately against him on the back of the scooter. 

Finn heads straight for the chippy. That’s where they’re all supposed to meet up, so that’s probably where she’ll be, all over Archie, if what he saw last night is anything to go by. His stomach lurches because he’s not ready for that to be real just yet. 

Chloe and he are the first to arrive and the panic rises in him. He doesn’t know what to do. Chloe is standing impossibly close to him, talking nonsense and giggling hysterically at nothing in particular. She keeps brushing up against him, her bare skin skimming his with an uncomfortable heat. He points her at an empty table, while he moves to the counter and orders three full English breakfasts, just to give himself room and time to breathe.

He loiters at the counter, suddenly fascinated with the menu, anything to avoid dealing with Chloe and the conversation he has to have with her. He only heads over to the table when Archie staggers in.

Archie’s on his own and in a right mood. The cool indifference Finn was aiming for is laughably non-existent when he asks about Rae but Arch is more hungover than Finn has ever seen him and he’s less than helpful. All Archie can remember is them downing shots and Rae being worked up about needing to tell someone something but he doesn’t know what and he doesn’t know who. Remembers her haring off and trying to keep up with her for a bit but losing her when he had to stop to throw up. He passed out near the entrance where Barney and the others found him and brought him home. Finn’s anxiety doubles and he seriously considers going to look for her. 

Before Chop can even make it through the door Finn is on him to know if he’s seen Rae. His relief is fleeting when Chop says he’s dropped her off at hers. Thank God. Then the anger rises again. At Chop. At Rae. Why did she go home with Chop? Why didn’t she come find him? Why didn’t Chop drop her at Finn’s, since that was the plan? She was stopping at his, everyone knew that. Why does no-one ever stick to his plans? Oh shit, what if they had gone to his and he wasn’t there? She had no way of getting in. She wouldn’t have wanted to wake his dad, especially if Finn wasn’t with her. She wouldn’t have wanted to get him to trouble. _Shit, shit, shit, SHIT_. Of course she had to go home. 

She’d come to him. She’d asked for his help and he’d let her down. He let a moment of blind jealousy goad him into doing something stupid. His perfect night, where they’d be inseparable, laughing and dancing and kissing and him finally convincing her that it was him she should be with; had become nothing more than a nightmare, ending with him being pursued by her best friend in a ridiculous pantomime chase around an abandoned building all night. 

Of course, when Rae walks in, she’s fresh as a daisy and cool as a cucumber. Despite her claims to the contrary, she looks untouched by the night’s excesses, almost like she wasn’t even there last night. As if that amazing afternoon at his 

_\- tea and soft smiles and the casual brush and bump of skin against skin and speaking in low voices with Morrissey and Thom Yorke floating around his room, spilling over the landing, the volume turned up, so she could still hear it through the closed door of the guest room while they got ready. The late summer sun and her warm, solid body a definite curve around him, filling him to overflowing with the most wonderful crackle and fizz; the high of her smile and the light, giddy feeling of holding her hand as he helped her off the scooter –_

didn’t exist outside his own head. It’s the most real thing he’s ever felt. Was it all in his head, that she’d felt it too? 

The rest of them are all bleary-eyed and sweat-stained and the collective stink coming from the table is rank – but not her, she smells of soap and green apples and his gut twists. He can’t meet her eyes, doesn’t want her to see that he’s hurt and upset and desperate, but he can’t stop sneaking looks at her, watching to see if she’s watching Archie. Hoping she’ll look at him. Praying she won’t. Just making sure that she’s real. 

This is not how this was supposed to go. She’s not supposed to be sitting all the way down the other end of the table, not looking at him, not talking to him, like he doesn’t exist. Again. They’re supposed to be curled up around one another, holding hands and smiling shyly while the others good-naturedly take the piss. The debrief was where they were supposed to announce that they were together now. A proper couple.

He wants to confront her but how can he? He can hardly be pissed off with Rae and Archie when he’d done the same thing with Chloe. That kiss hadn’t meant anything, maybe theirs didn’t either. Maybe it was all just one big, monumental cock-up that they’ll laugh about later. Maybe all the hopes he’d had last night weren’t completely destroyed; only postponed. God, he feels sick. 

Things are even more awkward when Chop and Archie bail and it’s just the three of them left. He bottles it before he can say anything and heads to the gents. Washes his face. He wants to make sure every trace of Chloe is gone before he talks to Rae. And he has to talk to Rae. That kiss before, when Archie was leaving, didn’t seem any different to any of the other kisses he’d witnessed between them, which makes him feel a little better. Now if Chloe would just bugger off… _FUCK! CHLOE!_ What if she tells Rae that they’d kissed before he can explain himself?

The girls are still sitting opposite each other when he comes out of the bathroom and there’s a weird, silent tension hovering over the table. He was going to ask Chloe if he could talk to Rae in private but he knows from bitter experience that Chloe can’t take a hint, so he decides to offer Rae a lift home on the back of the scooter. He wants to feel her close around him again. He should have just kept driving last night; no rave, no gang, no misunderstandings, just the two of them, speeding through the dark with only the wide open road and the whole night ahead of them. Why had he let go of her? He’s not been able to get warm since she let her arm slip out from his on the way into the rave. 

He’s barely sat back down and suddenly Rae can’t leave fast enough. It’s all he can do not to reach for her arm, pull her back to the table, apologise for being such a dick and beg her for another chance. Or make her tell him what the fuck she’s playing at. Or ask her what he has to do so she will see him. Something. Anything. He wants to sort this out, once and for all. 

But he’s gutless, so he doesn’t do any of it, doesn’t even offer her that lift, he just watches her go and he’s stuck once again with the wrong girl. _Stupid, stupid fucker._ There’s no point in him being here anymore either but he can’t leave until he clear things up with Chloe. It’s mortifying but it has to be done. While he doesn’t want to hurt her, he doesn’t want there to be any confusion either. At least one girl should know how he’s feeling.

He’s as gentle as he can be and, to his relief, she seems to be okay with it. Finn makes his excuses before practically running out the door himself. He knows it’s too late but he searches the street anyway. Rae is already gone.

Finn makes his way home on auto-pilot, climbs the stairs quietly, careful not to wake his dad. He can’t bear the idea of having to explain why Rae isn’t with him. His eyes drift to the empty spare room, with its freshly ironed sheets and the tiny posy of flowers his dad had cut from the garden and placed on the bedside table for her. Rae had blushed so prettily when she’d seen them, Finn had desperately wished he’d been the one to think of it. 

Too tired to undress and get under the covers, Finn toes off his boots and falls face-first into the striped blanket at the foot of his bed. He’s overwhelmed once again by the smell of green apples and it hits him that less than twenty four hours before she’d been here, in his room, on his bed, letting him take care of her, filling him with so much hope because he had been the one she had to run to. Now all he can think of is that if she sees him at all, it’s only as a mate; like Chloe, or Izzy, and that even if she doesn’t still fancy his best friend, she sure as shit doesn’t fancy him in the least, and there is a pain in his chest so crushing it sucks the breath right out of him. He balls the blanket up in his clenched fists and inhales, trying not to cry.


End file.
